Ever::Dreamtime
by Winter Skye
Summary: Sam wakes from an unnatural dream to a disturbing nightmare. Complete.
1. Falling

SPOILERS : From S5.21 Meridian onward 

DISCLAIMER : Stargate is the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. No infringement on copyrights and trademarks is intended. All original material is copyrighted to the author. 

NOTE : Dream sequences should appear in _italics_.

* * *

_ Stars exploded. _

Wherever she turned, wherever she ran, from system to system, all around her: young main sequence stars aged violently until they collapsed in on themselves; binaries that once danced around each other flung themselves together; giants shrunk back in on themselves; dwarfs with nothing left to burn grew, re-ignited, re-lived their lives. 

Faster, faster, she ran, their destruction caught in her wake; chasing her, gaining on her, one by one they exploded with a final cataclysmic scream of unholy defiance. She roared her anger at the horror, the laws of space and time violated, billions of years, unbounded eons of life, gone. 

Finally they overtook her, surrounded her. She was caught in a cage of stars, trapped, unable to escape, unable to stop. 

She fell. 

Sam woke, disoriented, shivering, her t-shirt damp with sweat clinging to her skin. A dazzling kaleidescope of light burned her eyes, her head throbbed, blood pounded in her temples. Reflexively she gulped and rubbed at her ears; her fingers coming away wet, sticky. At the corner of her mouth she tasted the tang of iron, blood. 

She reached for the light switch, silently cursing when it failed to work. She fumbled her way to the door, confused, unable to imagine why the back-up generators and fail-safes hadn't kicked in. The emergency lights were out and there wasn't even the fluorescent glow... 

The door was unlocked. She opened it a fraction... still nothing. The base was in complete darkness, absolute silence; but through the floor, through the wall, there was still the familiar vibration. If she'd woken up in the middle of a drill, or if the base had been compromised... even so... 

Something warm brushed her arm. Sam jumped back in surprise, raised her hands, prepared to defend herself, ready to attack. Strong hands grabbed her, pushed her back, pinned her against the wall so fast she couldn't even struggle. 

Her attacker used his whole body to hold her, all the while squeezing her wrist, over and over, slowly then quickly, rhythmically, the pattern as familiar as... Sam knew her own name, it was one of the first words she'd learned. As she relaxed the pattern changed. 

"Jack," Sam whispered. "What...?" she started. "What?" she said, louder. Sam trembled in his arms as he squeezed out more letters. She squeezed her eyes shut painfully, shook her head in agony, shouting out his name but not hearing it. Her knees buckled as he let her go. The last thing she couldn't stand to know was the truth. 

Sam woke to a world dark, quiet, and altogether antiseptic. She was warm and comfortable but confused. She'd fallen asleep, woken up, Jack had found her, there'd been pain, but not anymore. Strong fingers held hers. It had to be Jack – she wanted it to be Jack – he'd caught her and she needed to believe he'd want to – need to – stay with her. 

She didn't know. 

"What happened?" she asked, trying not to shout, but having no idea if she had. Jack's fingers tensed. "How bad am I?" She half-raised her free hand to her face, but couldn't bring herself to go further. 

She waited anxiously; she knew it wasn't good, that it couldn't be good. The way he held onto her hand she just wanted to close her eyes and... realized it didn't make a blind... and she wouldn't even hear herself scream. 

She didn't know what Jack saw, what she looked like, how much was wrong. 

She was afraid to move... afraid to know what was gone... 

... what was left. 

But it was worse not being able to see him, see him hurting for her the way she knew he would, the despair on his face, the way he'd be looking to blame himself, all the things she didn't want him to do. "Tell me!" she shouted. She just wanted to know the facts, the truth, without the grief and the pity. 

Her hand fell from his. 

No: he'd pulled, wrenched his hand away, as if he couldn't bear to tell her. She knew his greatest flaw; she knew his sense of responsibility, of duty, of sacrifice. She knew his love for her. He couldn't tell her: no. 

Her hand was empty. Her world was dark and quiet and the one person she wanted to believe in didn't have the faith to tell her. Her hand closed on a void, curled into a fist, nails digging into her palm. 

But she wasn't alone. There was nothing to fear. 

She wasn't afraid. She was strong. 

Not alone. 

Afraid. 

_ The Unas glared, almost-human eyes glowing from the depths of his alien skull; teeth, sharp, bare, blood oozing from his mouth dripped from his chin. _

He stood with his back to the stargate, surveying the destruction before him, barking out orders to the hundreds of Jaffa charging through the gate, storming through the temple. 

A child, a girl, hung limp in one massive claw. Broken and twisted, her head hung from a flap of skin at the back of what had been her neck. Her face was crimson, her hair bright red, matted, soaked in her own blood. Her throat was gone, her spine jutted from her chest, split and ugly. 

Still more Jaffa came. Still the Unas bellowed his anger. His great body trembled as his rage grew, as he shook the child until her head fell. 

It landed at his feet unheeded, unimportant. Sam watched it bounce, roll until it lay still before her, staring up at her, pleading to her even in death. 

A black quiet descended as dead eyelids flickered; as dead eyes turned, focused; as a scarlet tongue flicked through teeth that sparkled like rubies, licking lips as bright as cherries. 

"Help me!" the girl called out. "Please!" she cried. "Help me! Please, help me! Help me," she sobbed. A single tear fell from her eye, spilled to her cheek, burning through skin, searing through bone, wisps of black smoke boiling up, an acrid stench rising from melting flesh. 

"Mother," the girl choked. "I love you." 

Sam screamed. 

Alone – she fell – panic – arms flailing wildly – despair – legs kicking – fear – hands groping, clawing, clutching at nothing but air – empty. 

Desolate. 

Sam knew the jolt of an adrenaline kick when it hit her. And now she was coming down off a big one. A really big one, worse than anything good or bad that had made her keep going against whatever was thrown at her. But at least she usually knew why. She didn't even know what day it was. 

Her body heaved, arms and legs stretched taut, her body arched, lungs burning, struggling to fill themselves. Hands grabbed her, held her, pinning her down. In the quiet, the darkness, Sam fought for control against the unknown, against herself and fear. She resisted the urge to struggle, to kick and pull against whoever thought they were helping, but she couldn't let herself relax against her better judgment. She held herself rigid, gulping in the recycled air, almost hyper-ventilating, risking unconsciousness. 

But what else did she have? 

Jack had found her too quickly, almost as if he was waiting for her to open the door so that he could... what? She was safe in the infirmary. If it was the infirmary. 

If it was Jack. 

Sam squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't relax, not now. 

She new the risks. 

Something bit her arm. "Hey!" Sam shouted. Too much air exploded from her lungs, too fast, too hard. Her body went limp. 

She'd lost. 

"No!" Sam knew how weak her voice would sound as the sedative claimed her. 


	2. Diagnosis

Just about the only person who looked restful was Sam. 

Janet stood clutching the clip-board, reviewing the latest results. No one ever understood. It was her job to run the tests, find the solution, apply it, patch up the patient and move on. No one ever took the time to consider the emotional attachments. And for a team as close as SG-1 and General Hammond, when one of them got hurt she had to think of all five of them as her patients. 

Colonel O'Neill was still in deep denial and hadn't had any sleep in fifty-four hours; General Hammond had reached the classic anger and frustration stage; Daniel kept running in and out, his distress far too clear for everyone to see and twice as disruptive; Teal'c was perhaps the easiest to work with, despite his alien nature, yet she was learning to see beneath his stoic visage and knew that even he wasn't immune. 

Communication was nigh on impossible. 

"What on God's own Earth was that?" 

"I wish I knew, General," Janet said. "She insists that she's speaking normally. She says she can think herself saying the words and can't understand why it sounds so wrong to us." 

"Wrong, Doctor? I haven't heard a noise like that in all my born days." 

"Yes, Sir. That's why we had the first briefing in your office. She is trying not to talk. Trust me, you don't want to hear her shouting; her tonal range is quite broad. At its quietest, there are harmonics and subsonics which could temporarily immobilize an unsuspecting person. At it's loudest, this close, she could easily incapacitate all of us. It really is quite frightening." 

"It's been 36 hours, Doctor," Hammond had that look of impatience which only meant trouble. 

The easy part was telling them what she knew. "Sir, there's nothing physiologically wrong." The hard part was convincing them. "After the Colonel brought her to OR she regained some awareness but was, as you've just heard, unable to communicate." The General had only just heard the noise coming out of her mouth, but the Colonel had caught the full force of it more than once and it had near scared the life out of everyone else who'd heard it. 

"She appeared to have an immediate relapse." The Colonel didn't try to interrupt her; that was good. "Some seconds later, she came to again. We tried to hold her, but the way she reacted... I had to sedate her." 

Janet paused. Briefings were easier when they went like this. First, make the General think he was in control. "Go on, Doctor," Hammond obliged. 

"Yes, Sir. The initial attack has so far been the worst. The first time, there was blood loss, consistent with concussion and trauma to the ears and eyes." 

"Like a Goa'uld shock grenade." 

"Yes, General, but the severity indicated she would have had to have been hit by several of them at extremely close quarters. Of course, I only have anecdotal evidence, but bleeding is unusual." 

"And there were no grenades." 

"Yes, Colonel. Anyway, we cleaned the blood away and began monitoring. EKG, EEG, we're monitoring everything we can think of. Full blood works, the lot. She's aware now." The hard part was not letting the frustration show. "We've done MRI and CAT scans. I've got x-rays and enough data to fill a book on what a woman would be like if she was at the peak of physical condition and in perfect health." 

"Let me get this right, Doctor: what you're basically saying is there's nothing wrong except that she can't see or hear or talk?" 

"More than that, General. We're getting the proper responses to both homologous and heterologous stimuli. It's as if the signals entering the brain are quite simply not being interpreted. There was nothing on her last screening to indicate anything with the potential to cause trauma on this scale. There's nothing now. We're doing the fullest analysis possible. So far, apart from a blood-count anomaly, she's clean." 

"It's biological?" 

"No, General. At least as far as I can tell. We did a full comparison. We started with the signature from the symbiote. No change." Janet paused. "And I don't mean any significant change, I mean no change at all." 

"So just what have you found, Doctor?" 

"Sir, this is where it gets complicated," Janet said. "We did the usual standard blood tests first. For completeness, to start with, we did both darkfield and phase contrast. For the most part there was nothing wrong, so we did more tests. At first I thought there was an error on the first blood work-up. It was so far off the mark, I had another sample taken. It's just about our only clue to what could possibly be wrong. We're taking samples every six hours now." 

Janet turned to one of the computers and pulled up a graph. "This shows the count of healthy red blood cells over the last 36 hours. It's far too low." Janet clicked the mouse. "This overlay shows the normal red cell count." Another click. "We've only got a few data points, but we can extrapolate." Janet paused to let them look at the graph. It should be obvious what was wrong. "Sir, what we're seeing is something like hemolytic anemia, when the bone marrow is unable to compensate for the destruction of red blood cells. There are a number of causes, but nothing I know of that could possibly make it this advanced." 

"Doctor, correct me if I'm wrong, but this graph doesn't look right." 

"No, Sir. The graph is right. It's the count that's wrong. Red blood cells live about 4 months. If they're not replaced at the rate they die, the count goes down." 

Hammond looked at the graph again. "So you've started transfusions?" 

"No, Sir." 

"No? But —" 

"Sir. The last work-up was done seven days ago. There was nothing wrong. Two days ago the count was low enough to be fatal. Since then it has returned to safer levels. Only marginally safer, but safe enough. It would appear that she's recovering on her own. I don't want to risk jeopardizing that." 

"So something between seven and two days ago caused all this?" 

"I'm not so sure, Sir. The numbers I'm finding when analyzing the blood samples are all wrong. If she's recovering normally, I'd expect the red cells to be young; they're not – they're old. More than that, they're very mature and getting progressively less old." 

"You've lost me, Doctor." 

"I don't believe this was the result of what happened two days ago. The red cell count is increasing, not because she's recovering but because she's not got worse yet." 

"Because it hasn't happened yet," Jack said quietly. 

"Yes, Colonel," Janet said, pleased with the Colonel's interpretation. It meant he was paying attention and analyzing the situation. It also meant, she hoped, that he was coming to an understanding of what had happened. "The graph has the shape of what I'd expect to see at the end of such a crisis. Except, of course, it would be going in the opposite direction, time-wise." 

"You mean whatever was responsible occurs sometime in the future?" 

"Yes, General." 

"How far in the future? I can't think of anything scheduled for SG-1 that would put any of them in any immediate danger." 

"That's proving difficult to predict, Sir." Janet said. "So far, with so few data points, the margin of error is too great. With each sample we take —" 

"Narrow it down for me, Doctor. If the count was so low, as you said, it could be four months away." 

"Somewhat less, Sir. Assuming a constant rate of decay of healthy red cells. However, if something occurred to alter her system... I don't know if the oldest died first, or if something accelerated their aging, or if the youngest were removed." 

"And there's nothing to indicate what it could be?" 

"No, Sir. Her blood, so far, is clean." 

"Then you expect whatever it was to eventually show in the analysis?" 

"Given time, yes, Sir." 

"It's beyond my comprehension, Doctor, truly it is." 

"Sir, what's occurring isn't normal in any sense of the word." Janet waited. There was more, but they had to realize it themselves. 

"The sensory loss?" Hammond asked. "That occurred in the future, too?" 

"If it had I would have expected some kind of deterioration. All I know is that her eyes and ears are in perfect health. As I said, her brain is receiving the signals, but she can't see or hear." 

"Except when she's dreaming." 

"Yes, Colonel, but even that is not consistent. After the immediate relapse, she slept peacefully after being sedated. When she woke she claimed to have no memory of the first dream, but she did complain of a severe headache. And she did remember waking to bright flashing lights that may have been after-images." Janet paused. "Or prior-images. We just don't know." 

"Then these dreams could be relevant?" 

"Sir, almost every time she lapses into sleep, there's an increase in brain activity consistent with a hypnagogic hallucination, accompanied by a hypnic jerk a few minutes later when she wakes. Neither is sufficient to cause the reaction she's experienced." 

"Hypno-what?" 

"A very vivid dream, General, followed by a sensation of falling," Janet explained. "Not at all rare, in fact it's quite common." 

"And she still remembers nothing?" 

"We're encouraging her to sleep. Sensory deprivation can be traumatic in its own right. In between, we go over everything that has happened since her last mission. We've already exhausted everything she did during the day leading up to the attack." 

Janet paused, took a slow breath. Now it was her turn. 

"I think we're looking at two separate events," Janet said. "Sometime in the future something will happen which will cause the hemolysis. We've got no clue yet because there are absolutely no signs of any associated symptoms. So far her system is coping well, but we are prepared if they do manifest themselves. 

"If her condition is traveling backwards in time we've got a far greater problem. 

"The second event is the first dream that caused the trauma. Naturally, we have no knowledge of anything, outside of theoretical physics, that lives backwards in time. But we can hypothesize on the aspects. 

"Sir, it may be that she can't remember her dreams because to her she hasn't had them yet. 

"It is possible that before the moment when the trauma occurred, brain and cognitive function ceased. If, in our time frame, cognitive function ceased before brain function... 

"The conclusion is inescapable." She'd held them long enough to deliver the impossible. "What we're witnessing is the result of that future catastrophe. She may never recover." 

The Colonel already had an idea, but the shock on the General's face was almost one of horror. 

"Two days ago, Sam died." 


	3. Snakes in the grass

NOTES : Dream sequences are in _italics_; regular speech is in "double quotes", Morse code is in 'single quotes'

* * *

_ The grass was cool, moist. She licked her lips in anticipation. The scent had come to her first. Her belly was empty, she was hungry, so hungry. She'd hunted all night without luck. Her only cub had trailed her, mewling pitifully, jumping at her, biting and clawing. Like her last kill, she, too, was now far behind. _

She circled through the trees. This was her chance; at least twenty deer filled the clearing. It was nearly dawn and she knew she had to act soon before they came fully awake. Their tails were down, there was no stamping of feet; they hadn't seen her. Yet. 

It was almost too quiet. She crawled low, right to the edge. The big stag, forty inches to the head, his antlers another thirty, stood guard. He hadn't seen her, but slowly his head turned, and for the smallest fraction of a heartbeat he scowled directly at her. She leapt as he turned. He was too slow, too late. Huge claws struck his sleek fur, raking it open. She brought him down, his throat wide open to the joy of her jaws biting deep. 

Her head hit the pillow. Sam shivered as her hand fell open, empty. A sharp pain filled her mouth where she'd bit her tongue. She wanted to shout, but knew that she mustn't. She wanted to strike out, but knew that she daren't. 

She'd tried to assert her independence, to not be in constant contact with someone. Anyone. She wasn't a child, she didn't want her hand holding, but after a minute she'd get the worst case of vertigo, and imagine herself falling out of the void. Only a minute, and her stomach would cramp up, her legs would begin to ache and start to twitch, her head would spin and she'd be holding her breath, trying so very hard not to scream, falling, hands clawing, nails raking at thin air unless someone was unlucky enough to get in the way. 

But someone would be there to catch her, pacify her. Always it was a soothing, calming touch and she imagined them saying "hush now" as if she was a baby. They didn't like to hear her scream; she'd learnt that quickly. She didn't want the attention. Being fed, being washed, being bed-ridden and the self-consciousness which came with the prodding and probing and bodily functions. 

The nurse had assured her that she wouldn't leave her alone. 

'hey sam' 

'hey doc' Sam tapped out, regaining her self, surprising Janet with the strength of her grip. 'you going to tell me now' Sam asked. 

'sam do you remember your dreams' 

'no' 

'the last one' 

'no' 

'certain' Janet persisted. 

'no' Sam's smile had gone, and her grip on Janet's hand was becoming painful. 'u going to tell me now' Sam asked again. 

'yes' Janet tapped out slowly. 

Sam settled back patiently as Janet began telling her all the medical detail that wouldn't upset her. Finally she got to the hard part. Janet looked up at the observation room, where the General was watching and listening to her commentary as she spelled out all that she knew. He nodded once, and Janet took a deep breath. 

'we think you died' she tapped out, and waited for Sam's reaction. The machines didn't miss a beat, didn't change a tone. 'and brain function ceased' Janet waited. 

'when' 

'in our time frame' Janet paused as her own heart skipped a beat. She looked again to the General. 'before' she tapped out, not knowing what to expect. 

Sam nodded, turned her head to where she imagined Janet would see her most clearly, and smiled, squeezing Janet's hand reassuringly. 'yes' Sam tapped. 'of course' 

'you knew' 

'guessed' 

'it means' Janet began. 

'i know' Sam laughed and Janet flinched. 'sorry' she tapped out. 'janet' Sam began, turning her head to look towards the observation room. 'i sense when you talk room empty. no secrets.' 

'okay' 

"Are you sure, Doctor?" The General's voice came through the speakers far too loud. 

"No, Sir. But what other choices do we have? So far we've been fighting this separately. We might get further if we cooperate." 

"Very well, Doctor." 

'the whole truth' Sam tapped. 

'you first' Janet asked. 

Sam closed her eyes. 'i feel' she shook her head 'alone. very much alone.' 

'how' 

'its dark janet. dark and quiet. no pain no light no noise.' Sam paused. 'no happiness no sadness no time no morning no afternoon. no one. 

'always night 

'do you know what dark is janet. turn the lights out close your eyes. you think thats dark. ever been blindfolded. thats not dark. ever done sense dep. ever sat shut in a tank of luke warm water with nothing but your thoughts. thats not dark. close your eyes janet. ask general to turn out lights. serious. do it.' Sam waited, relaxing her grip on Janet's hand until just the tips of their fingers touched. 'what do you see janet. tell me what you see. squeeze your eyes shut. really squeeze. is that dark. tell me.' 

Hammond looked on in the glow of the monitors, listening to the Doctor repeating Major Carter's words, becoming more uncomfortable as the seconds passed. Sam appeared relaxed but the Doctor was closer, her distress obvious in her posture and the tone of her voice. 

'tell me janet.' 

'see images shapes random motes flicker' 

'do you hear noise of machines. hear the hum. hear the creaks. do you hear the vibrations of the base. do you hear yourself breathe. do you hear the blood in your temples. do you hear all that.' Sam paused, took Janet's hand in hers. 'do you see my heart beat janet. do you see it. do you see my brain pattern on your monitors. do you know what it means.' 

Janet opened her eyes, looked at the monitors. Sam's blood pressure had increased marginally, her heart was beating only slightly faster, brain activity was normal. 

'do you know what black is janet. find something black. look at it. look. can you see it. can you really see it. stare at it janet. focus on it. really focus.' Sam slowly increased her grip on Janet's hand, holding it firm, tight, gently tapping out the words with a finger. 

'can you see it janet. out of the corner of your eye can you see it. look at it janet. so black janet. do you see it move. do you see it crawl. watch it janet. watch it crawl across your face. feel it. feel the itch of it crawl across your eyes under your eyelids. so black. is it there. is it real.' Sam squeezed on Janet's hand. 

'can you hear it janet. can you hear it speak to you. its all around you janet. all around you. nothing else. nothing. black. can you see it. can you feel it. can you hear it.' Sam hoped the lights were still out. 'close your eyes for me janet.' Sam closed her eyes although it didn't matter, breathing in slowly, holding it, breathing out, counting each breath. At twenty she squeezed Janet's hand as hard as she could. 

"Do you have an idea, now, Janet?" she asked out loud. "Of what it's like not seeing, not hearing, not knowing. Do you know fear?" Sam asked, letting go of Janet's hand, leaving them both abandoned with the full effect of the horror of her voice ringing in Janet's ears. 

Sam made herself relax, holding her hand open for someone to take it, oblivious to the pandemonium all about her. 

She didn't hear Janet's stifled cry or see the General stagger, fumbling to shut off the intercom and only succeeding when it was already too late. She didn't see the lights suddenly blaze to bright white, half-blinding everyone in the process. She didn't see the doctor lose her composure or hear her abandoned chair fall as as she ran in a blind panic, nor the surprise of the airmen standing guard outside. She didn't hear the General curse or see Colonel O'Neill standing in the open doorway, utter despair etched clear on his face. 

Sam waited quietly, breathing easily, staring with vacant eyes at nothing, plain for everyone to see. 

_ Bones bleached white under a hot sun lay whole at her feet in the emerald grass. A skeleton, complete, human, male. She'd known him, she was certain, perhaps she'd even loved him. He'd guided her, shown her... something... a thing just beyond her reach... her heart leapt at the joy she was sure he'd brought her... she wanted to embrace him but his skull stared back at her, pleading with her, imploring her to... to... _

Sam lay still, trying to breathe easily, waiting, waiting, patiently for someone to come along to take hold of her hand, to tell her that she was safe, that nothing was wrong, that she'd just had another dream, that they were doing everything they could but that it would take time. 

Time was the least of her worries. She had plenty of time. She'd seen enough, done enough, to know how lucky she was still to be alive. Time was when she'd won her father's approval, when she'd followed him into the Air Force; when she'd graduated, when she saw action in the gulf and the end of one tour of duty after another. She'd truly learned how to walk before she'd learned to fly. 

But how she'd flown! 

And now she was more than blind. All they had was questions and more questions, more than they had a right to ask, detail greater than they ever needed to know. 

She knew what it was to live, to be alive, to feel with every fiber of her being. Everything she did was because she had to. Not out of duty, or false loyalty, or because she was brave and fearless, but because it was there to be done. 

She knew what it was to die. The pain, the emptiness, the hollow ache in her gut, the gaping wound in her spirit. Jolinar was inside her, but even he now was silent. 

She waited, empty, hungry. She was a pincushion. 

They took, took, took. 

They took her temperature, her fluids, her blood, her vitals. Electrodes itched at her scalp, her skin. Hands held her, prodded, probed her. 

They took her memories, her thoughts, her feelings. They explored her body, her mind, her soul. Her life was laid bare before them and she could do nothing. 

_ "Who are you?" The old man sat amongst the flowers, cross-legged on the grass, head bent, wilting under the heat of the white sun. "Who are you that you disturb my meditation? Who are you that you bring your chaotic thoughts into this garden?" His voice was gentle yet commanded Sam's respect. _

"Master —" Sam started. 

She didn't get a chance to finish; the old man held up a shaky hand. "It does not concern me, but that you should not be here," he said. "You should not be here," he said again, but with the warmth of recognition, or perhaps something deeper. "You must know that, child." 

"But, Master —" 

"Hush, child. Come, sit with me for a while. Let me look at you again." 

Sam nodded, doing as he bidded. She knew how the Master valued his solitude, how much he disliked being disturbed. She knew how precious time was to him; even after all the years that had passed him by. 

He smiled as Sam sat in front of him. "You have not changed, and still I sit here dreaming my empty dreams." Sam bowed her head as he reached out a trembling hand, great brown spots covering skin that had creased and withered with his great age. But his touch... Sam sighed as his hand barely grazed her cheek, as his warmth and love filled her. 

"Ah, child, still your presence fills my heart, as it fills me with fear and dread. Why do you haunt me so? Is it not enough for you to see me like this, so tired, so weak?" 

Faster than Sam could move or even see, his hand darted down, grabbed hers, holding it in a grip that she knew would break it if she moved. 

"You forget your lessons, child." A second hand snaked out, caught her other wrist. "Did I not teach you well enough? Did you learn nothing from me, or have you..." his voice trailed off, trembling. Slowly he relaxed his grip, let his hands fall to his side, raised his head to meet Sam's own gaze. "You have been there, you have walked it. I can see the blood on your spirit, the death on your soul. That way is not yours." 

"Yes, Master, I have been there; but I have not forgotten." Sam reached out slowly to take his hands in hers. "How can I forget what you have yet to teach me." 

The old man's eyeless face stared at her, through her. "It is true, then." He regarded her fondly, his face grim. "My time on this world is almost over." 

"Yes, Master." Sam couldn't stop the tears escaping her eyes. "They come, Master. Very soon, they will come. Oma —" 

"I will not go!" He almost shouted. "I cannot. That place is forbidden to me! Oma and her kind despise me. I will never walk there. This is the end, child." 

"No, Master. That is why I am here. Oma was wrong; you will die. She will tempt you; you must not go to her. You must wait, be patient. The Harsesis Child will live. He will change forever the way beyond." 

"The Harsesis Child will never be born," he laughed. "Now I know that you are a ghost, a delusion." The old man smiled. "No one hears you but me. No one sees you, my fabled warrior with the golden hair. I am old, my mind no longer has the strength it once did. You are a dream, child." 

"Yes, Master, I am a dream." Sam stood. "But you will rise again. You will walk the way beyond, you will live again striding the stars." The old man's head dropped. "Sleep well, Master." 

Sam collapsed back into the cot beneath her. For a heartbeat she wanted to panic but a firm reassuring squeeze of her hand brought her back to the present. 

Whenever that was. 

Her sleep pattern had become so irregular, she had no idea whether it was day or night. She recognized the Colonel's light touch, but that didn't mean anything; he sat with her more than anyone else, and she suspected he only left the infirmary when Janet ordered him out so that she could do the more intrusive tests. 

At least, she hoped he wasn't around. 

But it was so comforting when he was. Slowly she let the tension out of her body and was almost relaxed when his hand began to slip from hers. Pure reflex made her clutch at his fingers. 

She felt Jack's frustration. His strong fingers held hers so gently she knew when his mind wandered, when he would caress the palm of her hand and her heart would start to beat that little bit faster. And if it got too fast... It wasn't easy being deaf and blind with a fertile imagination and a body that wanted... Sam cut off the thought and gave Jack's hand a firm squeeze. She didn't want the alarms on Janet's machines to go off, she'd didn't want anyone to see the increased respiration and demand an answer that she couldn't give. 

And it was 'Jack' now. She'd started by tapping out 'colonel', but that was too long; then she'd tapped 'sir', and Jack had slapped her down; metaphorically and with weak humor, of course. What had happened to her hadn't been on his watch. She was off duty; he wasn't directly responsible, but he still couldn't accept that it wasn't his fault. 

At a second touch Sam opened her right hand, accepting the newcomer without fear or question. And with it came peace, tranquility and more love than she ever dared hope to expect from anyone. Sam closed her eyes, aware of the reflex but submerging herself in the joy flooding her heart and mind. 

_ The snake gazed through obsidian eyes filled with stars deep into her soul. More than a snake, its head, so dark, swayed close to hers, its mouth wide, teeth sharp. _

Soft lips caressed hers, loving and tender, a dream she never had but now so desperately wanted cascaded through her body. Sam knew that she wasn't alone, that she'd never be alone, that she would soon be whole and so very much alive. She smiled as her lips parted, responding to the touch, to the longing before she even began to wonder. 

Sam knew him. 

She shivered in the cold night air, the whole of her body trembling with a desire that she hadn't known existed inside her. Everything around her was at peace; the trees were quiet, the water was still; even the flowers, their fragrance so bright during the day, were asleep for the night. 

The snake reared up, looming over her, its scales glistening a rainbow of colors. "Have I found you, my love?" he spoke directly into her mind. "After so much time, after so much hope, after so much despair, is it truly you?" he asked, his words cutting deeper than her worst fears, soaring higher than her greatest hopes. 

Sam knew she loved him. 

The air above her rippled, thickened, coalesced. A second serpents's head loomed over her, swam closer, held its cheek next to hers. She knew she was alive with him, for him, because of him, and that everything that had gone before was nothing, that his was the key that would unlock her soul. 

The serpent hovered about her face, lingered over her body, watching, waiting as she slept easily beneath the stars, knowing that his time would soon come. 

Slowly, Sam smiled. She knew she'd remember nothing when she woke, but the truth of him would be in her heart to guide her when she did. 

Together theirs would be the future and nothing could stand in their way. 


	4. Prognosis

It was hypnotic, the way Sam smiled, her eyes closed, the Colonel holding her hand. Janet stood in the corner of the room wondering what she should do with the one result that didn't make any sense, and what she could say about the one that did. The events of the first two days had taken their toll on everyone, but the three after that... Sam's mood was changing on each dream and a whim, but there was no seeing beneath the enigmatic smile on her lips. 

"Hey, Doc," the Colonel snapped her out of her reverie, "She's asleep again." Janet looked across, but the Colonel didn't seem too happy. "Ah, Doc, did you see that?" 

Sam's eyelids fluttered briefly, there was an immediate change in tone as the monitors responded to an increase in blood pressure, to the sudden racing of her pulse. He saw Sam's right hand close, but not fully, as if she was holding something, someone. Jack flinched as her left hand went limp in his, a just as sudden fear etched clear on his face. 

He looked up for reassurance only to see shocked expressions from Janet and the nurses. "What?" He looked back and wished he hadn't. Her mouth was open, she was smiling broadly, licking her lips, slowly, sensuously. And her eyes were open, focused, seeing. 

Glowing. 

"Oh no." Jack whispered, Sam's hand fell from his. "There's no snake in her, Doc? Tell me there's no snake?!" 

"No, Colonel, there's no snake," Janet said quickly. "But you'll have to leave the room. Just for a few minutes, Colonel." One of the nurses helped the bewildered Colonel to his feet and sat herself in the vacated chair. Sam was still asleep and smiling as the nurse took her hand. Janet had already pulled back the top blanket, calling out for an ultra-sound as she stood ready to remove Sam's gown whether she came awake or not. "Please, Colonel!" Janet glared at him. "You'll help more and know sooner if you leave now!" 

Janet waited for the door to close before she pulled Sam's gown open. A second nurse prepared the ultra-sound unit. "For the record," Janet began the examination like she would an autopsy, recording the date and time. "We know where the symbiote likes to attach itself. The patient is still sleeping. No damage to the chest or abdomen. Opening her mouth. No sign of tissue abrasion or excoriation. Okay, turning the patient onto her side." Between them, Janet and the nurses pulled the blankets and her gown completely out of the way. "No sign of entry at the back of the neck. Ultra-sound." Janet held her breath as she ran the scanner the length of Sam's spine, from bottom to top. "Clean." Janet breathed a sigh of relief. "Confirm, nurse?" 

"Confirmed, Doctor Fraiser." 

"Good. Bag the gown. I want a blood sample straight away. Ease her onto her back and cover her up. Well done!" Janet nodded, satisfied with the efficiency of her team. If only they weren't getting all too efficient and familiar with the procedure. "And if the Colonel kicks the door any harder he'll have it off its hinges," she said, just a little louder to ease her own fears. 

Janet turned back to Sam, surprised to see her staring vacantly, still smiling, but now with her hand held out, waiting. As soon as she sat and took it Sam began tapping furiously. 'what. truth. what. truth —' 

'last dream. remember anything.' 

'no. now tell me.' 

'emotions' 

Sam paused, thinking. 'odd. happy.' She shook her head in confusion. 'very happy.' 

'your eyes. they glowed. had to do scan. all clear.' "Nurse!" Janet called out. "Keep everyone out – especially Colonel O'Neill – and fetch me a clean gown." 'sorry sam. must have samples. then we get you clean.' 

The smile quickly disappeared. 'i know, sam, but,' Janet began, stopping when Sam turned to look at her. The effect was unnerving — just for an instant her eyes were focused... and then it was if she was looking right through her... as if she didn't exist. For an instant Sam was back... and then all there was was the light touch of her fingers in hers. 

The lights in the observation room flickered on. Janet watched General Hammond stalk in with an agitated Colonel a step behind. "Dammit, Colonel, I said for you to wait," Janet cursed at the interruption, her own agitation communicating itself to Sam. 

"Doctor," Hammond took control, "we're all very concerned at the Major's condition." 

"But when your concern interferes with my effective treatment, Sir..." Janet said. She squeezed Sam's hand and got a nurse to sit with her, to let her know what was going on around her. 

"I understand that, Doctor," Hammond said, stiffly. "But with the last emergency, when can we expect to see an improvement?" 

"Sir," Janet said, "we are starting to make progress, but there are too many inconsistencies. None of the observable symptoms or manifestations appear to be related. Certainly not medically. I can't even see how one single thing could have been responsible for two of Sam's conditions, let alone three or more. 

"The latest toxicology results have identified a possible cause of the hemolysis. At some point – but don't ask me when – Sam was exposed to 2-hydroxy 1,4-naphtha-quinone, commonly called Natural Orange-6, or Lawsonia. Massive amounts of it." 

"Agent Orange?" 

"No, Colonel. Agent Orange was..." Janet stared at him, exasperated, wondering just how obtuse he could get. "Sir, this is a dye; usually a hair dye. It's a constituent of henna, imported from North Africa and Asia. Of course, Sam is a natural blonde... still, we took hair samples and that only confirmed that she hadn't used it. Not in the last few months, anyway. But now we're finding significant amounts in her blood." 

"You mean she was poisoned?" 

"No, Sir. At least, I wouldn't have thought it was intentional. In some cases henna occasionally induces a mild reaction, but that's rare. And given either the concentration or the quantities that would have been required, it is highly unlikely. All we have to go on is how Sam's recovering. I'd expect the levels to increase with time," Janet said. "Once we knew what we were looking for we re-tested the older samples. 

"Sir, Sam is recovering on her own. In effect, and again, the critical point was immediately prior to the Colonel finding her. Her condition isn't improving, it's getting un-worse." 

"Which is consistent with your earlier diagnosis and prognosis." Hammond didn't look any happier, but he nodded his appreciation. His eyes narrowed as Janet frowned. "You have more, Doctor?" 

"General, because the original incident was so unusual and so traumatic, we kept everything, even the swabs we used to clean the blood away from the affected areas. As soon as it became obvious that Sam's ears and eyes were in perfect condition, I sent the swabs off for testing, too. They came back even more wrong than the first blood work-ups." 

"How wrong, Doctor?" 

"So wrong, General, I had them taken to a different lab. So wrong that I doubted my own sanity." Janet stopped; took a deep breath. "Sir, the blood from her eyes and ears wasn't completely human." Janet frowned. "The swabs contained two blood types, one human – Sam's – the other was feline." 

"Cat's blood?" 

"Yes and no, General. I had the original sample sent to the zoo in Colorado Springs." 

"The zoo? You have got to be kidding!" O'Neill shouted. 

"No, Colonel. It didn't match any of the big cats they have there. They had to send it on to Denver." Janet waited for the Colonel to calm down. "The sample doesn't come from any native cat, but from Felis Tigris." 

"A tiger?!" 

It didn't make any sense to her, either. "They narrowed it down, found a match. Specifically, it's the blood of a Bengal tiger." 


	5. Dreamtime

NOTES : Dream sequences are in italics; regular speech is in "double quotes", Morse code is in 'single quotes'

* * *

"Unscheduled off-world activation!" 

"Close the iris!" Hammond called out as he ran from his office. 

"Yes, Sir!" Sergeant Davis' finger was already poised over the button. 

General Hammond arrived just in time to see the splash erupt from the gate, and the iris close. 

"Sir, the coordinates: its the Nox home-world, Sir." He paused. " Sir, receiving SG-1's authorization code!" 

Hammond stared at the gate. All GDO's were accounted for, as were all of SG-1. And, in theory, the Nox were their friends, even if they were so strange and superior. He also knew the iris wouldn't stop them. In less than a second he'd made up his mind. "Sergeant, open the —" 

"Sir?" Davis said quietly. 

The iris was still closed as two shapes emerged onto the ramp — one of them definitely not Nox. 

"It looks like a —" 

"Thank you, Sergeant, I can see what it is." Hammond stared in disbelief, as the gate shut down, at the tiger standing on the ramp, clearly looking back up at him, and the boy beside it. 

"I am Nafrayu," the boy announced. He stood, quite calm, his hand resting on the tiger's shoulder. He spoke out clearly, "Do not fear her." Hammond watched the big cat. It never took its eyes off him as it yawned, its massive jaws spread wide, huge teeth bared. Nafrayu smiled and knelt at her side, whispering something too quiet for anyone to hear. The tiger purred a low rumbling purr that made Hammond shiver. The Nox boy stood, looking up into the control room. "Trust her," he said and nothing more before turning. The iris opened and the gate rippled quietly into life at his gesture, shutting itself down after he walked through. 

They were at an impasse. A dozen men stood with their guns trained on an animal which ignored them and had made itself comfortable while it waited still looking up at him. "I'm going down there," Hammond stated. 

The tiger was watching the blast-door when he emerged. It – she, Hammond reminded himself – watched him, lazily licking her lips in a way that made him hope she wasn't hungry. Slowly she turned her massive head, letting her gaze wander over all the men ready to shoot her, before tilting it to one side in a most human way as she looked back him. 

Hammond had a whole host of welcome speeches he'd memorized to suit any number of occasions, but this one had him stumped. "Stand easy. Lower your weapons," Hammond said. 

"Sir?" Davis' voice startled everyone but the tiger. "Message from Colonel O'Neill. Emergency in the infirmary, Sir." 

"Some days," Hammond muttered, eyeing the tiger nervously as she rose to her feet, padded down the ramp and stood waiting at his side. "Well, if the Nox say I should trust you, I guess I don't have any choice." He looked around. "You and you," he picked out two of the less nervous looking airmen, "Go on ahead and clear the corridors. You and you," he picked out two more, "follow us. I don't need anyone panicking." 

The blast-door was still open. Slowly the big cat padded forward after the two airmen. Hammond watched the cat's head swing almost lazily from side to side as she took the lead, satisfying herself that the way was clear. Ahead of them, one airman was holding his position at the first intersection, the second was moving ahead towards the elevator at the end of the corridor. 

All Hammond could do was follow. The tiger moved with a grace that belied her 600 pounds, slowly enough that he could stay at her side, but with a sureness of where she wanted to go that made him wonder. 

When they reached the elevator, she looked up. When the door opened she waited for the airmen and Hammond to precede her before she edged into the now-confined space. All three men squeezed into the corners as the big cat turned, and reared up on her hind legs. One huge paw struck at the controls, claws suddenly extending so that only one button got sliced almost in half as it was pressed. 

A gruff purr echoed around the elevator as she dropped back down, as Hammond leaned over her and grabbed the emergency phone. "This is General Hammond. Order the corridors from the elevator to the infirmary on level 21 to be kept clear. I repeat..." The doors opened. The footsteps of a dozen people could be heard running away, but only one person was running in the wrong direction. "Colonel O'Neill! Hold your position! I thought I said —" 

"Ah, you know me, Sir." O'Neill stopped at the displeasure on Hammond's face, took one look at the airmen with the rifles pointing at him, and only then saw what his mind was repeatedly telling him really shouldn't be there. "Fraiser ordered me out again," he said slowly. "Teal'c has the door; I couldn't stand still, Sir, I..." Conflicting emotions played across his tired features. "Carter's had a relapse," he finished quietly, staring at the tiger. "Ah, General, new pet?" 

"She came with a young boy who called himself Nafrayu, from the Nox home-world." Hammond stood to one side as the big cat nudged past him. "Apparently we have to trust her." Hammond started after her. "And it would appear she knows where she has to go." 

They rounded the last corner just behind her and just in time to stop Teal'c as he drew his Zat. At the same moment a haggard-looking Doctor Fraiser emerged from the infirmary. She saw the Colonel first and shook her head. "She's gone," she said quietly. "There was nothing I could do." 

Teal'c eyed the tiger suspiciously, his Zat still drawn, as she continued to advance on the Doctor, still in shock and now paralyzed in disbelief, blocking the doorway. 

"Warn your nurses, Doctor," Hammond said quietly as he caught up. "For once, we'll trust the Nox. Even if..." His voice trailed off as the tiger nudged him forward and butted the Doctor aside. The cries of the nurses weren't unexpected as the tiger pushed him into the room with her. They all heard the flat tone of the heart monitor, and there was the briefest glimpse of Major Carter, but none of them were prepared for the low growl and the glowing eyes as the great animal reared up on her hind legs. The nurses ran as she dropped down, slamming the door closed behind them with one paw even as she tripped the emergency power-breaker with the other. Hammond stood still and tried to remain calm as the tiger brushed against his legs, as she moved around him in the dark. 

"Keep the door closed," commanded an all-too familiar voice, albeit with a resonance which was far too deep. "Let no one in." 

"Now just a dog-gone minute," Hammond started. "You tell me what's going on and just who you really are!" 

"To understand the truth is to face yourself and not turn away," the voice replied in a whisper. 

"And just what," Hammond persisted, albeit uncertainly, "is that supposed to mean?" 

"Tao k'o tao, fei ch'ang tao," the voice almost sang the strange words. 

Hammond blinked. Although there was no proper source of light, his eyes were adapting to the dark, and what he was beginning to see he didn't like at all. 

"Ming k'o ming, fei ch'ang ming," the voice laughed. 

What had been the tigress turned to face him. He could see the shadow of her form crouched low over Major Carter's body. He could see her red tears by the glow of her eyes, just as he could see the blood that fell from her ears and the smear at her lips, crimson over white teeth as she grinned a feral grin. He watched, spellbound, as she turned back to the Major; unable to turn away he saw her lean closer, he saw the blood flow and mingle as she breathed into Sam's body. 

For a moment they were both still, and for a moment that lasted too long Hammond was unsure of what he truly saw as the great tigress came again into focus before the glow of her eyes vanished. At last he heard a great sigh, and could only look on in surprise as her shape changed again and he saw the glowing wraith – and he would never find another way to describe it – of the ascended. And yet again she changed, smiling warmly as she descended to the form of a human child and stood before him. 

"Understand that your Major Carter lives again," the small girl said. "Understand that for now She travels your way, the way of the chappa'ai," she continued. "Understand that soon, as you reckon Time, understand that Her path will be the way beyond." 

"You mean she will ascend? Like you?" 

The girl shook her head. "Oh no, we are not of their kind," she laughed. "As I stand before you, your Major Carter will live as you live," she said. Hammond regarded her curiously, and glancing over her shoulder he saw the Major sleeping peacefully. 

"You alone will remember me here, now, which is as it must be," she pre-empted his next question. "You are a most wise man, General Hammond; when the time comes, Hers will be the truth." She took his hands in hers. The lights suddenly flashed on; Hammond blinked and he found himself back in his office. "When the Time comes, you must trust the Nox again as you have trusted me." 

"Sir?" Davis' voice from the open doorway startled him. "Message from Colonel O'Neill. Good news from the infirmary, Sir." 

_The young girl stood as quietly and as patiently as she could. _

There was still nothing worse than other people making a fuss. She was quite capable of bathing herself, of dressing, of applying the minimal amount of make-up she still preferred to wear despite... There would always be the last of the cultural differences, no matter how hard she tried. Even amongst family, and especially amongst friends. 

She'd made her mock complaints, put up her mock struggles, if only to remind herself that she was still just an ordinary person. First, she was an Air Force Major and she could never forget that, she didn't want to forget, it had once been so much of her life and so much more than a duty. 

Yet there were only so many times she could go through the stargate before the hurt became too great. It was her duty to serve her country, to sacrifice her life, to give up all that she could ever hope for and in return receive nothing but pain. 

She had seen it in the death of the ancient philosopher – she had seen the truth of the way beyond. Beyond humanity, beyond immortality, beyond the stargate and hunger and suffering and death. 

But she was still learning, still young, still naïve. 

This was the twilight that came before the long dark, where there was still the separation of self, where the yin and the yang had yet to join after the sunrise of the new day. 

Far away a chime sounded. She knew there was little time left, but she also knew there was no need to hurry. They had all the time the universe had to offer. This was her Eden. She'd defined it, created it, nurtured it. She'd brought life to it, and love and happiness. 

She regarded herself in the mirror, carefully, critically, delighting in the contrast between her blonde hair, the exquisite silk she'd been dressed in and the design newly painted again on her fair skin. 

This was the Dreamtime. 

"Mother!" The young girl tugged at her sleeve. "Father is waiting for us!" 

This was the end of the beginning. Sam followed her daughter through the maze of low corridors, to the world inside, to where her husband and consort waited. 

Now her heart sang with the love that had taken her to the way beyond, where hope and joy lay side by side. Yet still her heart spoke of a love that she would always know, that had once consumed her, overwhelmed her, almost destroyed her. Little more than an imprint would be left, nothing but the heartache of day-dreams and night-wishes that could never come true. Of a man... 

"Where does the dreaming end and the illusion begin? When I wake will I remember you? When the sun sets will I still be by your side?" 

Sam woke, crying, her breathing ragged, tears filling her eyes. She lay still, the last of the vertigo stealing all her energy. Reality always bit when she was the least prepared to embrace it. 

She opened her eyes, squinting against the brightness, forcing a smile. "Colonel." 

"Hey, Carter," Jack grinned back at her. "Glad to have you back." 

The dream had passed her by, but it had not left her empty. Somehow, she knew that this was just the beginning...

* * *

A/N : This completes the first part of the _Way Beyond_ trilogy. 

For those who are curious, _Tao k'o tao_... begins the first lines of the _Tao Te Ching_. They have been translated many ways. My favorite begins : 

_ 'The way that can be taken is not the enduring way.'  
'The name that can be named is not the enduring name.' _

More of the journey will be revealed in the second part of the trilogy, _Never::Dawn of the Dragon, Night of the Tiger_.

* * *


End file.
